


A Tale of Grief and Woe

by rosememenulas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosememenulas/pseuds/rosememenulas
Summary: Everyone knows the name Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who. He almost brought Wizarding Britain to it's knees, only to be thwarted by Harry Potter time and time again. Everyone knows his name, his tale, but no-one knows how it began: with a desperate witch and a childhood of grief and woe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... this started out as an idea that wouldn't leave my brain, so here's a very in-depth study of Tom Riddle. Not sure at the moment how long it will be, but it'll probably last all the way through to when he leaves to study the Dark Arts abroad. The timeline's a little sketchy, but hopefully it makes semi sense.

Tom’s first memory of emotion is pain. He’s four years old, and has just been rejected by a set of parents. It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last, but this is the one he remembers clearly. He may not remember anything specific about the couple besides that they were mind-numbingly normal, but it hurts all the same. Later, he consoles himself with, “They probably wouldn’t of been much fun anyway.”

No, he doesn’t remember the actual people. What he does remember is the heart-wrenching pain in his chest, his stomach, his soul, as he lies in bed that night. Tom’s first memory of emotion is the pain of being forgotten, of not being enough, of rejection, and it sticks with him his entire existence. 

That night, he cries. Again, not for the first time, but it’s new enough to him that it’s startling, how good it feels to simply weep without abandon into his hard and slightly dirty pillow, to yell and curse this cruel world. The whole experience is cut rather short by the other boy he shares the cramped room with yelling at him in a hushed tone to, “Shut up, you dunderhead!” 

There’s no sympathy in his voice, no clear understanding of Tom’s pain. The other boy knows how it feels, they all do, but if they show Tom weakness once, Tom will expect it again. He must learn to keep his emotions in check; The orphanage was not a nice place and emotions would only hurt you in the long run.

The sharpness of the other boy’s voice cuts through the haze of Tom’s emotions. With some effort, he calms himself, flips the pillow over, and tries to sleep. He may not succeed for some time, tears continuing to leak down his young, pale face, but no-one but Tom will ever know. 

Life continues as normal for the orphans. With the war raging around them, more and more boys join them daily. They may not be as well adjusted to the orphanage as Tom and the others, but they learn quickly. 

They learn that Mrs. Cole loves gifts and loves getting rid of kids even more. There is a fine gap in between the children who have been there since birth and those who have recently been entered; Those are her favored, those she can get attached to but still be happy when they find a home. 

They learn that since Tom falls neatly in the unfavored as one of the longest boys there, it’s okay to order and push him around as long as Mrs. Cole doesn’t catch them. 

Tom has just turned six when he is first targeted. At first, he’s happy to be included, even if it’s running thoughtless errands and laughing but the jokes aren’t funny at all. Being on the outskirts of a group, after all, is still a part of the group. 

By the time Tom is ten, he’s tired of the outskirts. He’s seen the boys come and go, all alike. He imitates their leader for a time, then thinks of other options when that leads to further ridicule.

One sunny day, Tom is perched in the rafters of the orphanage. No-one can figure out how he can get up there, only that he can and it doesn’t hurt anyone, so no-one says anything. He’s humming, twisting a bit of string between his pale, long fingers. Below him, the spacious entrance to the orphanage was clear, a rare occurrence. The only creature below was Billy Stubbs’s rabbit.

Billy was new to the orphanage, and he had brought the bunny with him. It was aptly named Lucifer, what with his bright red eyes and soft white fur. Between the sudden new pet and overall charisma from Billy, he had quickly risen the ranks to be a frequent tormentor of Tom. 

Tom stared down meanly at the rabbit. “No-one actually likes Billy,” He thought to himself. “They’re just nice ‘cause they want to pet Lucy.” With that childish conviction, he continued winding the string between his fingers and looking down at the rabbit. “It would be so easy!” His mind tempted. 

It seemed contemplating the murder of an innocent rabbit was too much for Tom’s ten-year-old mind. He shook himself out of his dark thoughts and nimbly climbed, leaving the string hanging over the rafter. On his way out, he stopped to scratch the white bunny on the soft spot just behind it’s nose before heading out to join the others. Outcast or not, it was a sunny day and he wasn’t about to waste it.

It wasn’t long before Billy was teasing him once again, and the nonexistent walls seemed to close around Tom. All he could think about was that stupid rabbit and how he wished, oh how he wished the wretched thing would just drop dead and then Billy wouldn’t feel so cocky. Jaw clenched tight, he strode over to the nearest aid and defiantly, and a little defeatedly, stayed by her side till they had to go back in. 

As the orphans crowded back inside the house, the newest development came sharply into focus: Billy Stubbs’s rabbit had gone missing. Billy, as was typical, immediately began ferreting out blame onto everyone but himself, which did not help matters in the least. When Mrs. Cole finally calmed down the children, the ‘bunny-hunt’ began.

It wasn’t till poor Sebastian Taylor happened to look up some hours later that the rabbit in question was found, dangling from a bit of spare twine on the rafters above. There was an instantaneous and unanimous agreement that somehow Tom had done it. Never mind that an aid had seen the bunny alive and well after Tom had gone outside, and was gone the entire time the bunny could’ve died; Tom had been seen playing with the twine earlier, Tom hated Billy, and Tom could get up that high. The facts were undisputable, but it was simply impossible. 

The older aids remembered Tom’s mother and strange occurrences from Tom’s infancy. Between them, each had seen Tom miraculously turn off lights and levitate toys towards him, and each had played if off as tricks. Now, they weren’t so sure. 

Accidentally killing Billy’s rabbit, proven or not, didn’t change much for Tom. Sure, no-one outright bullied him, but he certainly wasn’t included; In fact, he was purposefully excluded, to the point that no-one would share a room with him. Tom’s imposed solitude didn’t stop the sneers or whispers that followed him down the hallway. Somehow everyone was convinced Tom was the Devil’s spawn, a demon, otherworldly; and they made sure Tom knew it. 

Not that it bothered Tom in the least, as far as they knew. He had been just as surprised as the others when Billy’s rabbit died, but wasn’t about to fake sympathy. As expected, Billy was no longer the ‘pack leader’, but Tom was farther away then ever. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. 

Tom knew that somehow he had killed Billy’s rabbit, but he could not explain why or how. He had always known he was different, known it in his bones with the perfect certainty of an abandoned child. Some nights, though he loathed to admit it, he questioned if they were right, if there was something dark and evil lurking within him. Most of the time those fears were gone by morning, explained away by the fact he had never hurt someone on purpose, only indirectly and in (mostly) self-defence. 

Still, there were some perks that came with being ‘evil’, particularly having his own room. There he could escape into his own world, where someone loved and cared for him, who didn’t think he was the devil or weak. There he could fly, he could fix his torn bedding, he could silence the whispers. The room was his hideaway, and he used it frequently. 

Whether to hide from bullies or the pitying stares of the visiting adults, Tom found that staying in his room was highly preferable to roaming the orphanage. This was why he was so vastly unprepared for the annual summer outing. 

Many were surprised it was still happening, with the war and all, but Tom was not. If there was one thing the orphanage was good at, it was tradition. That was their excuse for most things because it kept most children from questioning or prying any deeper. Tradition meant it was old, and most children don’t like old things. Tom was, as you’ve probably guessed, was not ‘most children’, but he had learned questioning things would usually get him nowhere but trouble. Drawing conclusions from his surroundings and people’s body language, however, that was a worthy pastime.

Through his effective observations, Tom gathered that the summer outing was really just a chance for the aids to let loose without worrying about the children too much. The children usually roamed the village and countryside, and the villagers tended to take over the aids’ duties. The confirmation that Tom would be able to explore the cliffs without anyone in the way. That is, until little Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop wandered into Tom’s life. 

At a measly eight and six respectively, they practically worshipped the ground Tom walked on. They hung around him constantly, hovering like flies over dead meat. Neither could tell that they were annoying Tom, like most young children, and they didn’t relent until Tom yelled and slammed his door in their face. After that, they would act sullen and sad until Tom relented under the pressuring stares from the adults and apologize (and that was not very often at all).

When the summer outing finally came, Tom had resigned himself to the pair following him wherever he wandered, and, like usual, he was quite right. 

The village was small and comfortable, just like the years before, and the villagers were just as doting as last year and every year he had ever gone. Tom had spent enough summers there to know that the real fun happened on the cliffs a few miles away. Tom had never brought anyone else there with him simply because none of them could keep up. He didn’t think Amy and Dennis could, either, but they proved surprisingly tenacious.

When they finally arrived, Tom began his steep ascent down the cold, forbidding, stone path. The sea splashed up against the rocks, spraying the children and soaking them to the bone.

“Tom!” Dennis called, arms wrapped around himself to keep warm. “How far are we going? I’m cold, and I want to go back with the others.”

“So go,” Tom answered over his shoulder, as cold and callous as usual. “I told you that you wouldn’t want to come, remember?”

Dennis didn’t reply, just wrapped his small arms tighter around himself and continued forward. The sea spray was cold, even in the bright sunlight of an English summer day. The children, mainly Amy and Dennis, ribbed at each other and enjoyed scaring the other as they feinted pushing the other off the sheer cliff. Tom ignored them for the most part, but even he couldn’t hold back the small smile when Dennis jumped suddenly on Amy’s back, both of them teetering slightly and screaming. 

Eventually they arrived at the end of the path. It opened to a large rounded cave, full of dark, salty water with a small island in the center. In truth, it was more of a large rock, but it was still interesting enough to captivate the children for a few moments.

Tom grinned, sharp as the rocks that surrounded them. “Who wants to go for a swim?” He started stripping off his shoes and pants, then paused, looking at the others expectantly. “Don’t you want to swim?” 

Amy hesitated, scratching the back of her pale neck. “Er, I mean,” She floundered, looking side to side as if the walls could give her a reason to not get in the water. “Uh,” She started again, then finished when an idea occurred to her, “Ms. Cole said not to!”

Tom rolled his eyes, easily seeing through her weak excuse. “Since when do you listen to Ms. Cole?” He shucked off his shirt, revealing a pale, thin chest. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” He promised. When Amy and Dennis still faltered, his easy going smile turned deadly. “If you don’t get in, I’ll force you to,” He threatened.

Dennis blanched and quickly started undressing, but Amy stood firm, stubborn like only an eight year old could. “You can’t make me,” She said arrogantly.

Tom arched a thin eyebrow and stared at her calmly. The same feeling he had when Billy’s rabbit died was quickly rising up within him. If she didn’t swim, Dennis wouldn’t swim, and then she would tell and Tom would get in trouble and he’d never be able to explore on his own again and everyone would make fun of him! Desperation flared, but Tom kept it carefully hidden. “Can’t I?” He asked, daring Amy to continue to stand against him. 

Dennis stared between the pair, not quite understanding what was happening but disliking it just the same. “Come on, it’s not that bad, Amy. Just get in, please?” He pouted at her, puppy eyes coming out full force.

But Amy held firm. “No! I don’t want to get in, and if you make me, I’ll scream!” Her voice edged into a bit of a whine and Tom could tell she was close to a tantrum. 

Tom looked her in the eyes and allowed that feeling he had to swell within him until he could barely control it, and then he told Amy, “You want to get in the water. You’ll do it right now.”

Amy’s blue eyes widened and she said robotically, “I want to get in the water.” 

Dennis stared at her as she started to undress, then glared at Tom fiercely. “What did you do to her?” He demanded. Tom stared coolly at him, and Dennis continued, “You used your freaky devil powers, didn’t you? You didn’t like her saying no, so you made her, didn’t you?” 

When Tom didn’t respond and Amy began climbing in the water, Dennis continued, “I didn’t believe the others when they said you were a demon ‘cause Mom always said misunderstood people were the loneliest, but you’re just mean!” Dennis’s voice rose as he accused Tom. “You just like hurting people! I bet you killed Billy’s rabbit for fun, and that your parents were dying to give you away!” 

During Dennis’s rant, Tom had turned and began to get in the water, frigid as it was, but at Dennis’s statement about his parents, he froze and turned slowly. Dennis paled, sensing he had crossed a line. Tom had been at the orphanage his entire life, never knowing where he came from or why he was there, and everyone knew it. They whispered about it behind his back, but no-one dared say anything to his face, until now.

Tom climbed, a little unsteadily, out of the water and stalked towards him. “I enjoy pain, you said? I’m mean, you said?” Tom’s pale eyes seemed to pierce Dennis to the core, and one moment he was standing, glaring in false bravado at Tom, and the next he was crumpled on the ground, screaming like his heart was being torn out, like his fingers were being slowly removed, like he was in so much pain he could just die from it.

Flinching, Tom tried to ignore the boy’s guttural wails and focus on how could the water was. Amy was almost to the rock in the middle, completely undisturbed by her friend. Dennis was still rocking on the ground, and all of a sudden Tom couldn’t bear it any more. He exhaled loudly and suddenly Dennis stopped screaming and Amy was swimming frantically back to shore, eyes angry. 

“If either of you ever tell anyone what happened here, I’ll find you and make sure you regret it,” Tom threatened with a piercing glare. The two nodded quickly, glancing away from Tom as if they couldn’t stand the sight of him. 

Tom pulled on his clothes silently and tried not to think about what just happened, what he had done to the few people who actively sought him out. He was tense and shaking by the time they reached the village, and Amy and Dennis fled as soon as they could, safe in the arms of the motherly nun that watched the children. She had never liked Tom, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was because she saw something dark within him. 

When they finally returned to the orphanage, Amy and Dennis ignored Tom but stayed true and never told a soul. And Tom? Tom stayed in his room and ignored everyone, speaking only to his snakes and drowning in his thoughts. He snuck around the orphanage like a shadow and no-one ever questioned if he was okay.

Then a man named Albus Dumbledore walked into his small room and his life blew wide open on it’s hinges.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom doesn’t trust Professor Dumbledore from the moment he walks through the door. Doubtless Ms. Cole has told him all about his ‘evilness’ and habits of seclusion, but there’s something else about the old man that makes something in Tom distrust him immediately. 

Then the strange man dumps Tom’s world on its head by the announcement that Tom is not, in fact, a devil, but a wizard instead. 

In some strange way, it makes sense, but even then, it’s hard to wrap his mind around. “Prove it,” He dares, not expecting the professor to actually comply. 

When he does, it’s in the form of setting Tom’s wardrobe, full of all his worldly possessions, alight. It’s harrowing, and Tom flinches, no matter how much he’d like to hide it. The box with the few things he’s stolen rattles, and he is scolded for stealing. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last, but it sticks with him. 

He loathes to admit it, but he’s ridiculously excited for Hogwarts. In all his wildest dreams he never would have dared imagine a place where he could escape and be his own person without anyone knowing who or what he came from! It’s exhilarating, and it all comes crashing back down when Dumbledore says Tom will have to come back to the orphanage for the summers.

Still, it’s better than nothing, and when Tom refuses his help navigating Diagon Alley, Dumbledore looks disappointed but unsurprised. “That’s right,” Tom thought to himself, “I can take care of myself, so don’t worry about me.”

He is humble enough to ask how to get there, and, once the man leaves, follows immediately behind to set off for the Leaky Cauldron. It’s only a few blocks away, but it takes him a few minutes to find it simply because it’s hidden between unassuming shops. 

Entering quietly, Tom quickly finds the barman, who is ironically name Tom as well. “Excuse me, sir, but can I get into Diagon Alley please?”

Tom chuckles. “Of course, young sir.” He sets down the glass he was wiping out and yells for a barmaid to watch the bar, then leads Tom to the back. “Now, it’s a very specific pattern that goes just like this,” He says, tapping on different bricks slow enough that Tom could keep up easily. When he finished, the bricks rearranged themselves till they formed an archway, and Tom stepped easily through.

Diagon Alley was bright, with brilliant shops full of magic, people dressed in flowing robes and pointy hats, and there was magic everywhere you looked. Tom was so distracted by the sight he forgot to say thank you to Tom, but when he turned around again, there was a normal brick wall in place of the doorway. How he was going to get out, he had no idea, but that was the last thing on his mind as he strolled through Diagon Alley, eyes wide as he saw magic, real and true magic, for the first time.

There was a blue robed witch walking out of Magical Menagerie talking to a cat that was curled up around her shoulders, a group of children crowding around the window to Broomstix, a couple drinking tea outside of Rosa Lee Teabag, and even a few bookshops scattered in between. Various peddlers offered different trinkets to Tom as he walked by, promising protection from werewolves, vampires, and all manner of Dark spells. 

Looking down at the list in his hand, he decided a wand would probably be the first thing to do, and then his books. Glancing around at the shop names around him, all of them told exactly what they sold, except for a mysterious Ollivander’s. Shrugging internally, Tom headed inside. 

The bell rang loudly, but it wasn’t needed because a wiry, white haired man stood behind the counter. He looked very old, but his eyes were alive with fire and wisdom. Tom stood in the doorway for a bit, feeling awkward, but was soon beckoned in. 

“Hello, I’m Tom Riddle. Do you sell wands?” Tom asked hesitantly. 

The man behind the counter nodded. “I don’t sell wands. The wand chooses the wizard, you see.” 

Tom furrowed his dark eyebrows in confusion. “Sorry, what does that mean? I’ve only just discovered I’m a wizard, you see.”

Nodding again, Ollivander, he presumed, said, “Nothing can use or hold magic without being a little bit sentient over time. Wands are no different. They are made with magic, help witches and wizards channel the magic, and spend their entire life around magic. As a result, they are very sentient and choose who they want to be around during that time.” He paused and grinned, a little manically, and added, “Certain woods and cores work better for certain types of magic, like Aspen wood is known for exceptional charms work, and dragon heartstring works well with the Dark arts.” 

Tom nodded in understanding. “I suppose personalities come into play as well, correct?” 

“That would be correct, Mr. Riddle,” Ollivander smiled at him. “The bigger the personality, the longer the wand, usually. Of course, there have always been a few that surprise me.” He turned to bustle into the back, between the shelves full of cases that probably held wands. 

“Now, as for yours, I should think this,” He handed a slim wand to Tom. Tom waved it, and the glass behind the counter promptly exploded. Ollivander turned back for the wand and handed Tom another. “I think not.” 

Tom waved the next one and, like clockwork, another glass exploded. Ollivander smiled and said, “You’re going to be a tricky one, aren’t you?” He took the wand back and handed another to him. 

Taking the warm brown wand gingerly, he waved it once more, and was surprised when it didn’t make anything explode, instead a burst of colorful flowers exploded from the end. Tom shouted, almost dropping the wand in his shock. 

Ollivander chuckled, low and grating. “Yes, I thought so.” Tom looked up questioningly. “That is a yew and phoenix wand. Both are very rare and picky, and I make very few. The yew tends to choose those with fierce personalities. Phoenix cores are capable of a large range of magic, but they are very hard to tame and personalize.” The man smiled strangely at Tom, who fought to hide the shudder that ran along the back of his neck. “I expect great things out of the child that is claimed by both the yew and phoenix.”

Tom nodded, solemn. “I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I’ve never been ordinary.” With those parting words, Tom walked out of the shop, wand in hand. 

Peering down at his school list again, Tom set off for the nearest bookshop, Flourish and Blotts.

A few hours later, Tom had all his school supplies, and a few extra amenities he thought he would need. He had no intention of going back to the orphanage for the next few weeks, and sorely needed somewhere to stay. Night was falling on Diagon Alley and it was almost deserted, with people rushing to get their last items before dark. Shop keepers stood in front of their stores, muttering security charms before heading home with a sharp pop. Tom spotted Ollivander locking up his shop and headed over to him.

Tom didn’t trust the man, but he didn’t trust anyone. Ollivander made no effort to dumb himself down or disguise the fact he was obviously crazy, and it made Tom like him more than the rest of the adults he had encountered over the course of the day. 

“Excuse me, would you happen to know where I could find a place to stay for the night?” Tom asked when he stood next to Ollivander. 

The man looked down at him, busy in locking up his shop. “No family?” Tom shook his head. “Well, you could always rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron, but those are too costly for you, I would guess.” 

Tom shrugged, unwilling to admit he was dirt poor. “I would prefer cheap over than expensive, that’s for sure.” 

Ollivander raised an eyebrow. “There is a flat above my shop, but you would have to earn your stay.” 

Tom looked up and nodded quickly. “What exactly would I have to do?” 

“Eh, just help me around the shop every now and then. You seem smart and I’m too old to be doing grunt work.” Ollivander waved his wand, and the door opened and a staircase clunked down, dust floating up from the worn stairs. “It’s a little old, but you should be fine. A little dust never killed anyone.” 

Tom snorted and quickly composed himself. “I’m guessing you don’t live here?” 

“No,” Ollivander shook his head. “Too loud.” He motioned for Tom to go in. “Don’t touch any of the wands, and stay upstairs the whole time. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said, walking inside dutifully. 

Ollivander simply smiled creepily and shut the door behind him. Tom thought he heard him say something like, “You won’t be thanking me in the morning.” Regardless, Ollivander waved his wand once and then Disapparated with a sharp pop. 

Tom walked up the dusty stairs, wrinkling his nose at the thick layer of dirt that covered everything in the small room. There was a bed with a simple nightstand in the corner, and a desk on the wall next to the door. The desk was covered in different wand woods, and Tom made a mental note not to touch them. He set his purchases on the floor at the foot of his bed, uncaring of the dust. 

Sneering at the dust covered bed, he yanked the top cover off and shook it off, subsequently covering himself in dust. Tom sneezed, once, twice, three times, then set the cover back on the bed when he was satisfied with its overall cleanliness of the thing. The pillow wasn’t too bad, he just pulled the pillowcase off and set it back on the bed. By the time he was finished, the bed didn’t look half as bad as it did before. It definitely was not clean by any standards, but it was livable. 

The room was about as big as his old one at the orphanage, but there was a different feel about it, more like a home than anything Tom had ever known. 

Settling in for the night, Tom stared at the cracking ceiling above him. “You’d think having magic would help people keep their homes a little nicer,” He thought to himself. He rolled over and settled in for the night, falling asleep quickly. 

Something was scuttling through the walls, Tom was sure of it. He had woken up a few minutes before at the sound, and, judging by the lack of light in his room, it was still around the middle of night. There were lots of mice at the Orphanage, but this was something different. It was too heavy.

The thing came by again, shaking the in wall by his bed. Tom sat up, fear shooting through him. There was no doubt that it was something magical related, and Ollivander had known about it. Tom shook his head sharply. This was probably a stupid test, and Tom had to pass it somehow. 

When a few moments passed with no noise, Tom exhaled quietly and laid back down. “It was nothing, just some big magical mice,” He tried to convince himself, but that abruptly failed when a soft hissing was heard underneath his bed. 

“There is a human in my nest! What a delightful treat; I will enjoy eating him,” The voice said, Parseltongue distinct in the quiet of the night. 

“You will not be eating me tonight, sorry to disappoint,” Tom responded sharply, pale eyes searching the gloom for the snake. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something slither out of a hole in the wall and creep across the floor. Tom stayed so still he barely breathed; He had spoken to snakes before, but not one as big as this, nor one that wanted to eat him! 

“You’re a Speaker?” The snake asked, surprise obvious in it’s voice. “Why shouldn’t I eat you?”

Tom thought fast. “I’m sure you’re tired of being up here all alone; I can take you downstairs and outside. A pretty creature like you should be shown off. Don’t eat me tonight, and I’ll impress you tomorrow. If you don’t like it, you can eat me tomorrow night.” 

The snake rose in the air, staring at Tom for what felt like an eternity. “Fine. But I want sun and big, fat mice, or else I will eat you.” 

Nodding jerkily, Tom asked, “Will you leave me alone for the night so I can sleep?” 

“Can I sleep next to you if I promise not to eat you?” The snake slowly crept towards him. “It’s always so cold, and it’s been so long since I was warm.” 

Tom stared at the snake, blinking slowly in shock. The giant snake that lived in the walls wanted to cuddle with him because he was warm. He almost laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of it. “Sure, just don’t eat me.” He shrugged and rolled back over. Tom had shared with the different gardner snakes before, surely this couldn’t be so different. 

Cold scales slid against his skin, not entirely unpleasant, and the snake curled up in the space, so Tom was arched around it. The snake seemed to relax into Tom’s warmth, and the odd pair fell asleep in the dirty attic.

The morning sun poured through the open window, and Tom yawned, stretching his arms above his head and turning in the bed, forgetting about the snake next to him. 

“Hey!” The snake snapped as it was awakened by Tom. 

Tom stilled, looking down at the huge snake that was coiled against his stomach. “Sorry, I forgot you were there.” He carefully climbed out of the bed. “Did you sleep well?” 

The snake raised its head to stare at Tom. “Better than I have in centuries. Thank you.” 

Tom shrugged. “Thanks for not eating me. What’s your name?”

“My last master called me Nagini.” 

“Nice to meet you, Nagini, I’m Tom.” Just like that, an unshakeable bond began, a bond that would last over seventy years and stretch till it encompassed both souls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The info on Diagon Alley can be found on Harry Potter Wiki, and the wand info is directly from J.K. Rowling herself. I debated with myself whether or not Ollivander is OOC, but I like it so it's staying. Kudos and comments are amazing, thank you so much!


End file.
